


even honey

by closingdoors



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, F/F, clothes as a form of love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: Five times Charity realised Vanessa was for keeps, and one time Vanessa knew the same.





	even honey

Nothing is sweeter than love, all other riches second: even honey I've spat from my mouth.

**Sappho's Lyre, translation by Diane J Rayor **

* * *

_One._

Something's niggling at her but she can't put her finger on what it is. It's not like it's out of the ordinary, her coming round to Vanessa's after a shift when Ross has Moses and Noah's sleeping round his mates. Vanessa chattering away about her day while grabbing snacks for them to eat while they watch some rubbish romcom she's bought isn't new, either. They've settled into this routine now that they're officially girlfriends - which, though it's been a few weeks now, still makes her gloat and want to yell from the rooftops that she _can _hold down something good. _Someone_ good.

Vanessa settles beside her, babbling away about some feisty cat she'd had to treat today. She rolls up the sleeves of her pyjama top to show Charity the damage, a few nasty looking scratches on her forearms, and Charity forgets sympathy when it clicks with her what's wrong with this situation. 

"That's mine."

Vanessa's forehead crinkles in confusion. "What's yours?"

"This," Charity explains, tugging on the top. "I've been looking for it for ages. I thought I'd lost it."

"Eh? I'm sure it's mine. It was in the wash and you never leave your clothes here," Vanessa says pointedly. She looks down at the t-shirt. "I've tons of ratty old things like this I wear to sleep."

"Er, it's not ratty, thank you very much. Besides, look at the size, babe. You're practically drowning in it. You're tiny."

"I am _not," _Vanessa protests, cheeks glowing red. The sleeves of the t-shirt go past her hands and there's a little too much excess material in length, making it bunch up around her hips. "I hadn't realised it was yours. Like I said, I thought it was one of mine. Is that alright?" 

Charity doesn't see why, exactly, it _wouldn't _be alright. She hesitates anyway.

This is new. They're still learning each other, she and Vanessa; there's only so much they'd learned about each other from a dozen nights spent together. A three-week relationship has already revealed so much of Vanessa's life to her than those months of sneaking around had. This relationship has been comfortable to slip into, but it doesn't mean that there aren't things she has to adjust to; like the fact that Vanessa's a morning person, much to her chagrin.

Sharing clothes is something new entirely. When it comes to relationships, she's had far more experience with men than with women, and none of them were planning on slinging one of her dresses on and heading out to town. Especially since the majority of them have been rich and snobbish. They wouldn't want anything to do with her simple, everyday clothes, not even if she was the one in them.

Vanessa looks adorable, though. Hadn't even thought twice about it until Charity had questioned it. Her stomach flutters now, when she looks at Vanessa, and it's not an unpleasant feeling.

"D'you want me to take it off?" Vanessa asks when she remains silent.

"Nah. S'pose you can have it," Charity answers, settling on the sofa. Vanessa smiles and slots herself into her side, her cheek against Charity's shoulder. "You might get to take it off later, if you play your cards right." 

Vanessa half-heartedly swats at her and presses play on the movie. Charity rests her hand against the material bunched up at Vanessa's hip and doesn't pay attention to anything said on screen.

* * *

_Two._

One of Vanessa's ridiculous yellow jumpers finds its way into Charity's laundry basket. She pauses at the sight, holding the fabric in her lap, her thumbs caressing it. Vanesssa's turned her into a big ball of mush. She should probably hate that. 

"D'you want a moment alone with that?" Chas asks loudly from her seat at the table. She rolls her eyes when Charity glares at her. "It's a jumper, Charity, not a bloody wedding ring."

Charity shoves the jumper into the washing machine with the rest of her clothes, ignoring the way her heart is thumping loudly in her ears now. It's way too early for talk of things like marriage. She's not sure she even wants to get married again, anyway. She's had more than her fair share of marriages and none of them have ever meant a damn thing, just a lot of paperwork to get through when they inevitably ended.

Marriage with Vanessa, though... it's not the worst idea in the world. Not like Vanessa would ever say yes. Not in a million years. It's a nice daydream, though. Vanessa Woodfield is the kind of woman that anyone would be lucky to marry. Honestly, she's not sure how she'd marriage to stay single for so long, other than the whole in-the-closet thing.

Later, Vanessa comes round for tea, and Johnny and Moses run riot until they're tuckered out and they each have to carry a kid upstairs. They both fit onto Moses's bed, and Vanessa doesn't protest Johnny having to share, and Charity's so bone-tired that she forgets about the jumper completely until she's changing into her pyjamas and Vanessa's standing at the end of the bed, her fingertips pressed against the folded jumper.

"This is mine."

"Oh yeah. You must've left it here, babe. I washed it for you," she adds, like it's no big deal.

Vanessa smiles. "You didn't have to do that." 

"But I did. I'm great at this girlfriend business," she says, her pulse jumping in her throat. "Right?" 

"Right," Vanessa agrees.

* * *

_Three._

A thousand different scenarios play out in her head as she waits for Vanessa to get back from visiting her mum. Most of them involve Vanessa breaking up with her, which is overdramatic, but she is who is she is and that's the way her mind works. After all, Vanessa had called her mum and dropped in a _by the way, I'm gay, and I'm seeing someone _and her mum had demanded to see her right away. Without Charity.

So when Vanessa walks through the door and _doesn't _immediately break up with her, Charity's surprised. She's also concerned - Vanessa's eyes are puffy and a little red and she's carrying a bin bag half-full of things. She stands just as Vanessa drops the bag to the floor, exhaling loudly.

"She says she needs time to _adjust to my new lifestyle,_" Vanessa explains, with air quotes and roll of her eyes. She smiles sardonically. "Bit rich coming from a woman who's never come to visit her grandson. I mean, not like she's had a lot of input in my life these past few years, is it?"

"Babe, I'm so sorry." 

Vanessa shakes her head. "It's not your fault. I thought she might react like this, if I'm honest. It's probably why I never wanted to accept that part of myself. Still, her loss, eh?"

"If you want to - "

"Don't you dare," Vanessa interrupts, holding one hand up. "Even if we were to break up tomorrow, I'd still be gay. _That's _the problem she has with me right now and she can either come to terms with it and be in my life, or she has nothing to do with me. That's her choice. I'm proud of who I am."

"As you should be," Charity agrees, reaching out to squeeze her hand, because Vanessa can put on a brave face but there's no masking the pain in her eyes or the tightness of her voice. "What's all this then?" 

"Well, she let me grab some things from my old room. I didn't really look at what I was taking, to be honest, I was so angry. It's probably all rubbish."

Charity's more than intrigued at the prospect of going through Vanessa's things. Vanessa dumps the items onto the table - a box full of photos; a few veterinary journals she'd studied for uni; a few sets of baby clothes - and they sort them into piles. She lets Vanessa handle the boring books and goes through the photos, grinning to herself at one of Vanessa as a toddler in a yellow raincoat. 

"You were cute," Charity remarks, holding another photo up, one of Vanessa as a chubby-cheeked baby. 

"Were?" Vanessa replies with raised eyebrows.

"You're alright now, I s'pose."

"Cheeky," Vanessa gasps, pinching her waist.

The photos clearly mark when Frank had disappeared from Vanessa's life. A new man appears in them, one Charity assumes is her stepdad, and he looks kind enough. Though, she thinks, looking at Vanessa's mother's pinched expression in a photo at her graduation, it's not very hard to look kind next to that. Even Charity would look like a bloody saint next to her.

The baby clothes don't make much sense to her. There's a little mint green dress and two sets of onesie pyjamas. She holds the dress up, tilting her head to one side.

"Got some news to share, babe? Because I'm good, but I'm not _that _good." 

"Don't be daft," Vanessa says, rolling her eyes. She takes the dress and holds it carefully. "My mum kept these things. She used to tell me growing up that it'd be nice for me to pass them down to my own daughter one day. I never even really wanted a kid, but I held onto them anyway. Not much use now, I guess."

Charity squeezes her elbow in support, looking out among the collection of Vanessa's things. Proof that Vanessa had actually lived a life before they'd met. Logically, she'd known she had, and Vanessa's always been happy to tell her about her past, even about Kirin. It's different, though, seeing it all laid out like this. Even the little neon scrunchies trapped between some of the pages of her books. She can picture the younger Vanessa now, head bent over a book, hair pulled back into a ponytail as she studies.

When her mum had been telling her to save the clothes for the future, Charity had probably already had Debbie, unprepared and terrified. Strange, to think they'd lead such different lives yet still wound up together. She's grateful they've made it here.

"Maybe Chas will want them if her baby's a girl," Vanessa considers. "Are they gonna find out the sex or keep it a surprise?" 

"Uh, I think they're gonna find out. Don't you want to keep these, babe? You know, thinking forward, what if Johnny has a little girl someday and you want to give these to her?" 

Vanessa shrugs. "That's a long way off. It's just about passing things on to family, right? Might as well."

She's sure her heart stops beating for a second. _Family. _Vanessa says it so casually, so easily; there's no hesitation. She's already folding the clothes up and nattering about checking when Chas's next scan is due while Charity's stuck on that sentence. If Vanessa notices, she doesn't say a word, just ploughs on and redirects the conversation to one about getting takeaway for dinner.

Charity stands still, watching her. _Family, _she thinks. Yeah. Okay. She can do that. She doesn't want to run, she realises. She wants to step into this; she wants to grasp this intimacy with both hands. Especially when Vanessa pauses and smiles at her, always so bloody good at understanding exactly what's going on in her head. Maybe that's what being family means. She's not really had a good example of it, but she thinks that's what Vanessa could be to her. What she wants her to be.

* * *

_Four._

"Oh, no, you are _not _packing those."

"Why not?" Vanessa asks defensively, her outrageously fluffy socks held in one hand.

"Because if you actually plan on getting some, you're not going to dress like somebody's granny."

"_You're _a granny. Doesn't put me off," Vanessa reminds her petulantly. "Anyway, we're going on holiday with three kids. We're not gonna be going at it." 

"It's not too late to leave the boys behind, you know." 

Vanessa chucks the socks at her face, but she laughs all the same.

Two days later, in their hotel in Ireland, Charity's wrapped around Vanessa as tightly as she can, craving her body heat. It's Ireland, so she knew it was going to be cold, but she hadn't anticipated on it being _quite _this bad. Normally Vanessa's like her own personal body warmer and always complains about Charity's ice cold feet, but now Vanessa isn't warming her up at all and she's struggling to get any sleep.

Vanessa slips from the bed, ignoring Charity's protests. Charity gathers the duvet around her greedily, whining loudly, impatient for Vanessa to climb back in. When she does, Charity tries to latch herself on again, but Vanessa pushes her back with one hand and holds something up in-between them. The fluffy socks. 

Charity can't even find it in herself to argue about Vanessa ignoring her advice. Instead she slips them on straight away, her feet cozy and warm in the soft fabric. Vanessa pulls her own pair on and Charity, stupidly, thinks she could cry, knowing that Vanessa brought them both a pair in case they got cold. It's not often someone looks out for her like that. 

"Tell you what, babe, if I wasn't too cold to take my clothes off I'd show you just how grateful I am right about now." 

Vanessa shifts in her arms. "Well, we don't _have _to take our clothes off to have sex." 

"Thought you said my chances of getting lucky were exactly zero percent?"

"It's one in the morning, Charity," Vanessa says, already guiding her hand underneath her sleep shirt. "And your chances just hit a hundred."

* * *

_Five._

Vanessa enters the living room laden with shopping bags. Charity hardly looks up from her crossword, feigning nonchalance; she'd known Vanessa was headed out for an, apparently, much-needed girls' day out with Rhona. She's not sure if Rhona understands that Charity is, also, a woman, but she'd let the comment slide. And she's been desperately pretending that she has a way to fill her time when Vanessa isn't around since she'd said goodbye across the bar this morning.

Vanessa catches her attention though, by dropping a bag on the table in front of Charity, right on top of her crossword. Charity glances up, noting that she's kept it separate from her other bags.

"What's this?"

"Nothing special, really. You said you needed a new pair of jeans, so I picked some up for you. The receipt's still in there if you don't like them."

Charity tries to keep her hands from trembling when she pulls the jeans out. She's being ridiculous. It's just a stupid pair of jeans. Vanessa's already swanned off and started rifling and sorting through her own bags. 

They're her size and length and she doesn't question for a second how Vanessa remembers something like that unprompted. The way Vanessa loves her - because, surely, this is love - is simple and easy and means remembering things like the fact Charity takes sweetener instead of sugar in her coffee and always has to sleep with the window closed, no matter how warm it is.

She does these things without ever asking for anything in return. Charity doesn't think she'd remember to do something like that - she's still learning how to be the person Vanessa deserves; the person she knows she's able to become. She finds herself a little choked up on how simply _good _a person her girlfriend is.

Vanessa looks up. "They okay?"

"Yeah. They'll do," she answers, surprised to find her voice as steady as it is.

* * *

_One._

Vanessa's tired and sore when she leaves work that evening, and her mood only worsens when she leaves the practice and has to walk home in the drizzling rain. She remembers halfway there that she'd told Charity she'd pop in to the pub for a drink since Tracy's looking after Johnny and sighs, turning on her heel even if she's not in the mood. Delivering a baby calf in the afternoon has not done her back any favours.

When the enters, however, Charity isn't behind the bar. Chas is serving. Vanessa texts Charity and waits patiently, paying for the pint that Chas hands her, but after ten minutes Charity still hasn't replied. She scrolls back through their earlier text thread to make sure she hadn't mistaken her days, but it's right there, the offer she'd made earlier and Charity claiming she'd have a drink waiting for her. 

"Is Charity not working?" She asks Chas.

"Claimed to come down with the flu about an hour ago. I thought she was making it up so she could sneak off to see you," Chas replies.

"I haven't heard a peep from her since lunchtime," Vanessa says. She points to the corridor behind Chas. "You mind if I go through?"

"You know you don't have to ask, love."

Vanessa finds Charity fast asleep in her bed, curled up in a ball under the covers. She changes into her pyjamas and climbs in with her, surprised when she encounters something thick and soft in Charity's grip.

She switches the lamp on, which doesn't rouse Charity, and pushes the duvet back slightly. Sure enough, in Charity's hands, pressed to her chest, is the grey and cream jumper Vanessa had worn last night. She'd left it draped over the back of the chair for her to pick up later. 

For some reason, the sight brings tears to her eyes. She can imagine Charity, waiting for her even if she's ill, clutching the jumper as a stand-in until she gets here.

She swallows roughly and gently pries the jumper free from her grip, settling it at the end of the bed. She turns the lamp off and shuffles down under the covers, pressing her front to Charity's back and closing her eyes to sleep just as Charity shifts in her arms.

"Ness?" She gets out, voice thick with sleep.

"Go back to sleep," she murmurs, briefly touching her hand to Charity's forehead and feeling how warm it is. 

"Mmm, s'nice," Charity whispers, rolling over and slinging her arm over Vanessa's middle. "Missed you." 

Vanessa smiles, kissing Charity's shoulder. "Yeah. I missed you too." 

"G'night babe," she says drowsily.

"Goodnight, Charity," Vanessa replies, and sleeps.


End file.
